11 

My Life: Stop—July 8

Factoid: A kiss is just a kiss. Except it’s not when it’s in a foreign country and with someone I actually want to kiss me. It takes on a romantic hue. Even in a sterile doctor’s environment.

I sit here on Claire’s cot in utter amazement. I can’t believe we got away with our deceitful yet honorable plan. I never get away with anything! Not even when I’m innocent in the matter have I ever gotten away with something. I’m almost afraid I’m going to lead a life of crime after this because I feel giddy that I didn’t get caught and astonished that Libby knows nothing about it whatsoever. I came home expecting to find her waiting for me, tapping her toe, but nothing. The room was silent, the snacks were gone, and lunch was about to be served.

Now, if you add in the fact that J.C. kissed me on this stealth mission, it’s almost like I’m invisible. In a good way, though. Like a superhero way. A kiss—the one thing that Libby warned us would get us thrown out of the mission and we wouldn’t get our scholarships and our lives would be virtually ruined. But that didn’t happen. Nothing happened. I just told Libby the story about J.C. going back to the medical clinic, and she believed it and that was the end of it. I served lunch. I served dinner. I cleaned up dinner, and . . . nothing happened!

Pablo’s stepfather did come searching for him again, and this time the man was really frantic. No doubt Pablo’s mother was due home soon and he’d have some explaining to do. Libby was worried too and offered to call the police for him, but Pablo’s stepfather turned her down. She sent the guys out looking for the boy, and it really took all my willpower not to spill everything. Knowing the guys were out looking for someone they’d never find filled me with guilt, but the truth is, I worried about J.C. more, so I kept my mouth clamped shut.

My throat was so constricted the whole time, I worried I’d been bitten by some rare and venomous snake without knowing it and the venom had taken over my vocal cords. Knowing J.C. might be in danger, I stayed quiet and let the guys go out looking rather than save them the trouble.

I focused my thoughts on Pablo’s bruised thigh and his small size for his age. I tried to calculate in my head if the man had it in him to beat a child, but who knows what a monster looks like? They look like you and me, right? So how would I know? I decided it was better to leave it to the police. In a way, I hoped his stepfather was innocent. I mean, he looked exactly like I’d imagine a child abuser would look, and that seemed so very obvious.

“What are you writing?” Claire climbs up the ladder just as I slam my journal shut. “About the hot kisses you and J.C. shared while we were all in the classroom?”

I shrug. “What? No. Just what’s happening here at the mission.”

“So does that mean there were hot kisses?” Claire giggles at her joke.

“We couldn’t keep our hands off each other,” I tell her, and we both giggle.

“Seriously, what is happening? What are you writing in there?” She sits on the cot and curls her legs up underneath her. “Is there romance? Maybe a small spark of romance?”

“Not unless I want to lose my scholarship, there isn’t.”

It’s not lying exactly. It’s omitting the truth so that I don’t hold Claire liable for knowing a thing. That way she’s in no danger with Libby and I’m in no danger for her being unable to keep her mouth shut.

The phone rings and I startle at the unfamiliar sound.

“What is up with you? You’re as jumpy as a frog in Angels Camp.”

“Shh!” I hiss, trying to overhear Libby on the phone. She’s making sounds of agreement as if she’s listening to a litany of details. I find myself praying for J.C. and hoping that Pablo is safe and hasn’t been sent home if the house is unsafe. In a way, I hope J.C. was wrong and it’s all a giant misunderstanding, and that Pablo is home safe and cuddled into a warm bed.

“Sí. Gracias. Muchas gracias.” Libby hangs up the phone. “Daisy!” she shouts.

“Yes,” I purr as innocently as possible.

“Go pick up J.C. He’s done at the clinic.” I look down over the wooden rail. There’s nothing on her face that gives any sign she knows a thing other than I’m to go pick up J.C.

“I’ll go,” Hank says, slamming a book shut. “I don’t want her out by herself at night.”

“She volunteered herself to be in this situation, she can go. You’re tired from the day’s work. She’ll be fine.”

Hank meekly opens his book again, and I scramble to get my shoes on.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Claire asks.

“No,” I say too quickly, because the ride back is all J.C. and I will have to get our story straight. “J.C. will be embarrassed to have you see him hurting. He’s used to me seeing him all groggy from the meds this morning. You just stay here and get ready for the morning. I imagine Queen Esther’s part will be even bigger tomorrow. Wouldn’t want you to forget your lines.”

She holds up a script. “Totally. It’s really challenging my inner actor to speak in another language. It’s like doing Shakespeare.”

“Except Shakespeare’s in English.”

“Yeah, but ye olde English. Hardly the same thing.”

“Right,” I say, sliding into my sweater.

Claire stands beside me and whispers in my ear, “You may be able to fool Libby, but I know you’re up to something. You’re a terrible liar.”

I swallow the huge lump in my throat. “The less you know, the better. Believe that.”

“I’m certain that’s true, which is why I’m not asking you.”

I grin at her and grab her wrist. “See ya soon.”

I clamber down the ladder and meet Libby’s suspicious glare. “If I find out you know anything about Pablo, you’re done here.”

“Who?”

Libby purses her lips. “There’s just something I don’t trust about you, Daisy Crispin. You have that same glint in your eye that your father always had, and I never trusted him either.”

“Then there’s nothing I can do that will disappoint you or, in effect, please you, right? I can’t win here, and what’s different about me this time is that I’m not even going to try. Not because I don’t respect you, but because I’m a good worker and I’ll do my best regardless. You’re very good at what you do, Libby. Someday maybe you’ll realize others do it just as well, but differently.”

“I doubt that.”

So did I, but it felt satisfying saying what I thought anyway. Libby didn’t seem like the sort to ever change her thinking, no matter how much evidence there was to the contrary. Some people were married to their ignorance and I chalk Libby up to that category. I wonder if people ever think, I hope heaven is big enough for the two of us. Because Libby makes me think that way. I hope she’s on the upper east side and I’m on the lower west side, or however it works. I hope she’s in another wing. Which I know cannot be garnering me any more jewels in my crown, but neither can lying about my feelings.

I grab the keys and rush to the vehicle as if I’m an escaped convict, and in many ways I suppose I am. I turn on the radio, because let’s face it, there’s nothing cheerier than a little Latino music when you’re frantic and fearing a foreign penal system, is there? I’m thinking not.

When I get to the medical clinic, I drive up to the darkened building and there’s not a soul in sight. Truthfully, it looks like a scene out of a horror movie—not that my mom’s ever let me see one, but I’ve seen the commercials. I start to get out of the car, then think better of it. J.C. is nowhere in sight. I press all the locks down on the car doors and pray for some sort of divine guidance. “God, what do I do now?”

There’s silence. Silence and crickets.

“I don’t know what to do,” I say aloud. “God, J.C. didn’t tell me what to do if this didn’t work out, and if I come back without him, Libby will know for certain we were up to something.”

More crickets. It slowly dawns on me that I can actually smell myself sitting in this car. The most gorgeous guy I’ve ever met kissed me today, and I smell like a dirty puppy because water is so scarce here. Like fire and compassion are. I’m disgusting. Maybe J.C.’s nose didn’t work right after he got hit, or maybe we both smelled so ripe that we didn’t notice the stench of the other. Maybe it’s like caveman love or something virtually unknown to those of us from America.

There’s a rap on my window, and I scream as my imagination runs wild. I look up and see a policeman showing me his badge. Lord forgive me, but I’ve seen too many bad Lifetime movies and I don’t want to roll down the window. He knocks again.

“Daisy,” he says. “Daisy Crispin?” He rolls the r in my name, and it’s like Antonio Banderas in my mind’s eye.

I roll the window down a crack.

“Tu amigo? J.C.?”

“Sí? Mi español es muy mal,” I tell him, as if I need to. He can hear I’m not really speaking his language, can he not?

He motions for me to follow him in his cruiser. I toss up another set of desperate prayers and wait for him to start up his car. He slowly rolls onto the road and I follow at a safe pace behind him. I have the most irritating thought: would I have trusted J.C. so easily if he didn’t look like he did? What if this is all part of a deep, international kidnapping scheme where I am taken and sold into a . . . I shudder, not wanting to finish the thought. What if J.C. were a complete troll with a white man fro and a scruffy beard? Would I have said, “Oh yes, J.C., I’ll help you kidnap this child because of a preconceived notion you have in your head after being raised by a mother who could star on Intervention”? Yes, another heaping helping of boy-crazy, inane decisions for me. Please. The police officer is in a police car, but aren’t foreign cops on the take? Seriously, isn’t that the crux of every major thriller?

A brightly lit building is up ahead, and I’ve never been so grateful to see civilization. There are small stores, still open, a petrol station, and a very modern building that appears to be a full-sized hospital. The policeman gets out of his vehicle and saunters over to my car. Why do all cops walk that way? Is it in the code book or something?

I step out of my car and he hands me a strip of paper with English writing on it. It’s signed by J.C.

“Thank you.” I wave the paper. “Gracias.”

I enter the building and ask for directions. “Cuatro once?”

The nurse, all dressed in white, points me to the elevators, which don’t exactly look like they’re up to American code, so I ask for the stairs. She points in the other direction, and I climb up four flights of stairs until I match the numbers on the outside of the rooms to the one on my strip of paper. I peek into the room and gasp in horror. J.C.’s one eye peers out from behind strips of bandages.

“What happened to your gorgeous face?” I run to the bedside.

“Hopefully it’s still under the bandages.” He smiles with a cut lip. “You think my face is gorgeous, Daisy?”

I touch his bruised face as gently as I can around the bandages, but he still flinches. “Don’t pretend you’ve never looked into a mirror, J.C. You know what you look like. I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you. Who did this to you?”

He grins. “Yes, spell it out for me. It rushes the healing.”

“J.C.” My body tightens at the sight of him, and I wish I could take some of his pain from him. I try to make light of the situation to improve his spirits. “You look like you should be answering to the name of Lucky about now. Have you always had this kind of luck, or is it just my entrance into your life?”

“Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.” He grabs his stomach with his good arm. “You should see the other guy.”

“Does he look worse than you?”

“He doesn’t even have a scratch, but in my defense, I didn’t see him coming. He came up all ninja on me from behind and I didn’t get one good punch in. I hope you don’t need me to defend your honor because I’m not all that good in a fight. In my head I was Superman until it came time to prove it.”

“You’re in luck. My honor is fine and not in need of defending. Regardless of what Libby thinks of me.”

“Would you touch my face again? That was sweet, and I want to take something good home from Argentina that doesn’t come in the form of cotton bandages.”

I allow my fingers to gently graze his cheek and he winces. “The green of your eyes is even greener with the black eye. Very hot, but I’ll take the regular green to have you not beaten to a pulp.”

He laughs again. “Stop it!”

“Were you robbed?”

“Pablo’s stepfather found me.” He says it simply, as if he deserved the beating. “Something tells me Pablo’s mother wasn’t all too happy to find the little guy missing.”

“But he’s okay?”

“Pablo’s fine.”

I brush the backs of my fingers softly along his hand and marvel at how brave J.C. was through all this. He didn’t know the law, but it didn’t stop him from doing what was right. I honor him for that, and I wonder if he hadn’t been here if I would have tried not to notice Pablo’s bruise. If I would have run from the conflict because of Libby and her beliefs about me. In short, I wonder if J.C. wasn’t sent here to show me what a hero looks like.

I’ve never been more myself and tried less with a guy, and it feels fantastic to actually be liked for who I am—but I have to keep in mind that it could be the head injury, am I right? He’s changed my whole outlook on life in two days. I never want to struggle to be accepted again. Not with someone I consider a boyfriend.

Then I notice his expression. He’s got that leaving look I’ve grown accustomed to.

“J.C., you didn’t bring me all the way out here to tell me you’re not coming back with me to the mission, right?”

He’s silent, and I feel my eyes springing moisture. He takes my hand in his, which puts me at ease. “You’ll be fine. I’ll see you at school in a month and a half. You can find your own trouble without me. But I can’t go back to the mission for obvious reasons. If Pablo’s stepfather is around, Libby will get blamed for all of this. Plus how do I explain coming back from the clinic looking worse than when I went in?”

I grip his hand. “Please, J.C. You have to come back. You can just hide out in the house like you’ve been doing. I’d recognize Pablo’s stepfather and I’d warn you.”

“I wanted to say goodbye to you in person. That’s why I asked you out here. Six weeks and we’ll be together again.”

“Libby doesn’t like me, and you’re the only thing that’s made the work there bearable.”

“It’s five days, and if I thought you were in any danger, I wouldn’t leave.”

I grin at the idea but, against my better judgment, decide to complain more. “I’m not working with the kids. I’m in that kitchen all alone and I still have five days left. Can’t you just convalesce in the kitchen like you’ve been doing? Maybe sneak me a peck on the cheek now and again?” I give him my best puppy dog eyes.

His eyebrows rise and fall. “That hurt. I do like the idea of you taking care of me, I’m not going to lie. But it’s not safe for me to be seen at the mission. Pablo’s stepfather doesn’t know where I found Pablo or why I took him to the clinic, and that’s best. In fact, he tried to accuse me of taking Pablo and hurting the boy myself. Luckily, Pablo had already shown them what happened and kept saying ‘Papa,’ so I was free and clear. He trusted the officer right away, and he’d already told the nurse his story when I was with him. His bruises were too old to be from someone who took him that day regardless. I probably wasn’t even in the country when they happened.”

“What’s going to happen to Pablo?”

“He’s safe. He’s with the authorities, and they had a female police officer who was so nice to him. She brought him a stuffed animal, so he snuggled into her just like he did you and me. With all the Latino charm that kid has, he’s going to have few troubles in life once he’s away from this stepfather of his. I don’t think Pablo’s mom is actually married to the guy. She’ll have to get rid of him or risk losing Pablo.”

“I’m so happy to hear it.”

“The reason I brought you out here is so that I could see your face before I left Argentina, and also I wanted to tell you what to say to Libby so that she doesn’t know about any of this. Plus I told you I was going to call, and I wasn’t about to ditch you after that tool didn’t show up with the candy.”

J.C. still has hold of my hand, and right now I can’t imagine leaving him here in a foreign hospital by himself. “I was angry that he didn’t show up with the candy because it was a pattern. I do what I say I’m going to do, so maybe I expect too much of others.”

“I do what I say I’m going to do. Except I can’t come back like I promised, so I wanted you to know why. There’s no telling what that guy is capable of. He pummeled me when I left the clinic. Actually waited for me and had some idea I was there. The cops were right behind me and they arrested him, but not before the guy got his meaty fists on me from behind.”

“The cops had too many doughnuts?”

“I know, right? My grandmother is getting my flight home rescheduled, but I need to get back to town tomorrow. I can’t run the risk of going back to the mission because if Pablo’s stepfather sees me there, the mission could take the brunt of his rage, and we all know that would not end well.”

“For Libby or Pablo’s stepfather?”

“Good point. If it’s not too much to ask, I want you to call your friend, what’s-his-name. The one who didn’t show up. I want you to ask him to come and take me to Buenos Aires. He can pick up my stuff and the rental car and come get me.”

My joy dies. “I just told you he’s not reliable, but if he does come, it will be in his own car. Maybe one of the other guys can take the rental back to the airport when they go.”

“That works for me. Besides, this guy won’t let you down twice. Not when you tell him what happened. His country’s honor is at stake. He has to know you don’t dis a beautiful girl twice.”

I bypass his compliment in favor of worrying about Max’s reliability. “What if you miss your flight? Max is always late.” Naturally, I don’t mention the fact that it’s totally weird to have two guys I’ve kissed by choice (Chase, my kindergarten crush, kissed me in some kind of funky mercy move in the school quad) in the same vehicle and capable of comparing notes.

“Yeah, Max. He can go by the mission, pick up my stuff, and not raise any suspicions with Libby. If Libby sees me like this, she’ll know we were lying to her.”

“But my parents are in town. They could—”

“No parental units.” J.C. shakes his head.

“J.C., you’re being ridiculous. Did you get hit in the head?”

“I did, actually. A couple of times, but this isn’t the end for us, right? We’re going to see each other in Malibu in a month and a half. We’ll each go to the business student mixer, maybe dance or share some punch . . .”

“That would be nice.”

“I’m not meeting your parents looking like a thug on the bad end of a street fight. Plus I can’t wear shoes because my foot looks diseased from a scorpion sting, so they might think I have some rare disease and assume it’s something I could give to you. I think you’ll agree that’s not the best way to introduce myself to your parents, wouldn’t you?”

“I can go back and get your stuff. I can drive you. I’ll just turn in the rental car and get a shuttle or something back.”

“Yeah, and Libby will be more than likely to sign your scholarship paperwork with all that time off, won’t she?”

“What about Claire?”

“Your chaperone?” he asks. “I want Max.”

“In a weird way, I think Libby wants me to get caught being up to something. Why would she send me out to pick you up all by myself if she didn’t?”

“So you’ll find Max? Here’s my cell number. Give it to him and tell him I’ll pay him whatever his time is worth.”

“You don’t think that’s . . . I don’t know, kind of weird?”

“Weird? Why? He’s from here. You know him. You won’t vouch for me that my story is true?”

“Of course I will, but Max dumped me. At least I think he dumped me, I’m not exactly sure. What makes you think he’d want to do me a favor?”

“Leave that to me. He didn’t dump you. He isn’t reliable, right?”

“Well, I thought we had a romance and apparently we didn’t, and he could have had the courtesy to tell me on Skype, but he waited and just ditched me one night in Argentina. I think.”

“So he’s an idiot. He can still drive and he knows where the mission is. Two things in my favor. And if he thinks he’s still your boyfriend, I’ll set him straight on that account too. See? It’s all good.”

“I don’t know how to reach him,” I point out. “He never gave me his cell phone number.”

“Claire can email him on her smartphone. I’ll bet she has a way to find him.”

“You have an answer for everything.”

“I know, isn’t it great?” J.C. grins. “I’ve been waiting around all day. I had nothing to do but think, and this is the plan I came up with. A taxi would have to take me back to the mission. If one of you leaves the mission, it will only raise Libby’s suspicions, and like I said, she’s better off ignorant all the way around.”

“I was sort of hoping the stepfather was innocent.”

“Me too. Wait a minute, why?”

“Because he looked like a child abuser. I was thinking that made it too easy, the fact that he looked like what I pictured a child abuser to be.”

“I don’t know if they have a version of our cop shows down here, but I guess TV gets it right sometimes. Though I know from my mother’s practice, abusers come in all packages.”

“What if I can’t find Max?”

“Then I guess you’ll have to do it. At least bring my stuff here. Then I could catch a car to Buenos Aires, but I really don’t want to take the chance, Daisy. If something happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”

I nod.

“You’d better get back. Libby will be looking for you.”

Instinctively my body pulls closer to J.C.’s. It doesn’t want to move. For the first time in my life, I think romance doesn’t have to be so hard. Sometimes it blossoms out of a natural friendship and an inexplicable bond.

“You have to go, Daisy.”

I stare into his one good eye and still can’t explain how I got here. How I feel such a loss after two days. He leans in toward me and gently presses his lips to mine. I kiss him back gently so as not to split his lip again and stand awkwardly. “How will I know you’re okay?”

“I’ll find a way to let you know. Do you have a pen?”

I dig through the drawer beside him and find a golf pencil, then write down his information. His cell phone, his home phone, his address, his Facebook name, his Skype account. Basically, any way he can possibly be tracked down, I now have it.

“There’s a reason all this happened.”

I nod, unable to talk for fear I’ll blubber.

“Call me the minute you get stateside.”

I press my lips to his one last time and suddenly feel nothing has ever been wrong in the world and never will be again. This is what it feels like to be loved back. I hope, because it’s fantastic and sans drama.

My Life: Stop—July 8 and 9

Random factoid: Nice guys don’t always finish last.

I was numb to the fear of entering Libby’s lair. I felt no pain as I relived J.C.’s gentle kiss and heard his soft words again in my memory. But it was none of those things that made me believe J.C. is special. It was his actions, pure and simple. He stepped up to the plate when he had every reason not to. He overlooked the humiliation of calling Max because it was better for everyone if Max found his way back to the mission and kept Libby in the dark as to the dangers lurking just outside the compound.

I was dancing a waltz from a 1950s musical by the time I got to the mission’s door. Holding on to J.C.’s secret has made me feel special and important, as if I’m a special agent on assignment. Anything I can do to steer clear of my reality is a bonus at this point. So important, in fact, that I didn’t even want to tell Claire what I was up to, but that proved impossible since I had to reach Max, and she had the international cell phone that made emailing him possible. Because Claire has everything that makes life easier. I’d say, on average, her life has to be a good 99.8 percent easier than mine.

I emailed Max, and within an hour he emailed me back. (Go figure. Maybe he’s feeling guilty.) He’s picking up J.C.’s stuff and then J.C. Why now? Why does Max come through for me when it’s the most awkward situation for me?

Guys. I will never understand them!

Libby’s calling, gotta run.

So now it’s morning. It doesn’t seem like J.C.’s presence is missed by anyone but me, and since Libby is not all that interested in me, she never asked about J.C. But considering he was my only company in the cold cave, I miss him more than I could have imagined. And not in a romantic, pathetic way either. Just in an “I’m lonely and no one here likes me” way.

Claire and Libby seem to be besties for reasons I can’t fathom. I actually hear Libby giggling at Claire’s jokes and it’s like a slap in the face. I know that’s totally immature, like Claire can’t be friends with her and friends with me, but hello! The woman has totally threatened my college education unless I meet her exacting standards.

Incidentally, I do realize that it’s stupid to call my journal a travel journal. I could be anywhere. Coming through the beautiful but crowded center of Buenos Aires and passing the water and palm trees was the extent of the travel portion of my first international trip.

My fortunes do not change. Trouble follows me, and if I’ve learned anything about traveling, it’s that I bring my luck with me. Which is a good lesson, I figure. It’s going to save me a lot of money in the future, as I won’t be traveling. I can just stay at home. I know it’s not scriptural to believe in luck, and technically I don’t, but I sure seem to have this thing I don’t believe in and a lot of it.

I just heard a car! Max must be here! My heart is pounding at the thought, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m anxious to see Max or I’m anxious that he’s going to see J.C., or all of the above. But I don’t have time to think about it now.

Climbing down the ladder’s rungs, I gather up J.C.’s bags near the sofa and head toward the door. It’s open a crack when I reach it, and Max is standing outside in jeans and a plaid cotton shirt, his fist poised to knock.

“Hi,” I say to him with just a bit of a chill in my voice, but his deep, espresso eyes melt me every time. I wish I wasn’t so shallow, but looking at their depth, I want to know everything stirring behind them. Though he’s probably thinking nothing more than, What is wrong with that girl?

“Hi,” he says briskly—just a few degrees colder than the greeting I gave him. “I’m here for that guy’s stuff.”

“Yeah. It’s right here.” I hand him the backpack and bedroll. “Max . . .” I linger on his name, willing him to look at me. He finally does. “I really appreciate this. You have no idea how much this is helping me.”

“Whatever.” His terse answer ticks me off.

“Are you mad at me? Because you’re sort of the one who failed to show up and do what you promised. Not that I’m not grateful you’re here now and all, but you did promise me dinner and then with no explanation—” Oh my goodness, I sound like a nagging wife!

He shakes his head. “I’m not mad at you, and you know if I could have been here, I would have been. I’m mad at me.”

“You are?”

“You like this J.C.?”

“It’s not about that, Max. We need your help. Both of us. I don’t have time to explain now, but I will.” I keep looking over his shoulder, hoping that Libby won’t come out and accuse me of setting up a dating service—or worse—in her kitchen. “Is your mother all right? I thought of her immediately when you didn’t show.”

He hikes the backpack over his shoulder. “She’s fine. She has bad days and good. Right now she’s good.”

“I’m so glad!” But he still doesn’t tell me what’s wrong with her. I suppose it’s none of my business anyway.

“I guess we’ll have to trust each other then. You have your reasons, I have mine.” He tucks the bedroll under his arm. “I have to go.”

“That’s it?” I ask him, while at the same time checking the schoolroom frantically for any sign of class being over. I follow him to his car.

He lifts the trunk and shoves J.C.’s stuff into the small compartment. He slams the trunk, and I let my breath out, thankful that he’s around the corner and out of sight from the classroom and Libby’s prying eyes. I pad after him and try to decipher what he really thinks of my asking him this favor.

“Thanks for doing this, Max.”

He looks around me. “I’d better get out of here before your boss sees me. I assume you don’t want me seen.”

“Yeah.” I look away when I answer, ashamed that I’m asking for a favor and wanting to hide him at the same time.

Max looks at me with those intense, roasted-espresso eyes that seem to force truth out of me—not that I’m a liar. “It seems you feel strongly about getting this guy out of town.”

“I do.”

Max scratches the nape of his neck and seems to want to say something, but keeps stopping himself.

“Just say it,” I tell him.

“Say what?”

“Whatever it is you need to say to me.”

He grabs the back of his neck. “I’d rather not.”

“I wish you’d just say it. Something stopped you from doing what you said you would, and I think it would be better to just spit it out than string me along while I’m down here.” As much as I don’t want to hear there’s someone else or that he’s just not into me, there’s also a deep need to understand.

“I’d better get your friend before he misses his plane.”

“Were we ever . . . you know . . . did I imagine we had a relationship when there wasn’t one?” I exhale audibly. “There, I said it.”

“If we did, you seem to have gotten over it quickly enough. Already asking me to chauffeur your new boyfriend around. It’s like you didn’t even wait until the body was cold.”

My mouth is open and there are sputtering sounds coming out, but I can’t quite come up with words. What I want to say is some movie quote I always hear from my dad: “What we have here is a failure to communicate.”

“Me? You’re the one who ditched me without so much as a phone call, and now I know you could have reached Claire at any time.”

“Claire. Not you. You didn’t have a phone.”

“But you brought her here. You knew she was with me.”

He ponders this for a minute, and I fill in the silence.

“You’ve done everything you can to avoid me since the last day of school, from not having time to Skype to not answering emails. And when I came down here you were all warm and cozy until you ditched me without so much as a phone call. I just don’t get it. If you dumped me, I wish you’d had the guts to tell me so outright.”

“I told you, I had something to do. You’re the one who got cozy with a guy you barely know, nursing him and taking care of his ride to the airport.”

I step closer to him. “I’m sure you did have something to do, but you know what? It made me realize something.”

“What’s that?”

“If I have a boyfriend, I think I should know it, not just guess all the time where I stand. I think that wouldn’t make for a very happy life.”

“All you had to do was ask!” Max shouts.

“I shouldn’t have to ask. Isn’t that the equivalent of begging?” What is it with passive guys who make girls do all the work? There has to be a guy out there who thinks I’m worth chasing. Asking for affection is beyond pathetic, and my daddy didn’t raise me to beg for a hero. If he’s a hero, he’ll chase me.

“J.C. doesn’t make you beg, is that it? You know this guy, what, two days, and you know everything about him and think he’s never going to let you down? Maybe he doesn’t have a mother with hepatitis to take care of, did you ever think of that? That would lighten a guy’s load.”

“You’re not going to make me feel guilty for asking. You’re jealous. That’s all this is about. Your ego is bruised.” I want to ask him how it feels, but that would feel far too good and then I’d have guilt.

“Daisy!”

I hear my name shouted, and my stomach clenches. “Go! It’s Libby,” I say to Max. “I’m right here,” I call out and rush around the corner only to run smack-dab into Libby.

“Come here, young man,” she yells at Max, and I see him pause and look behind him at the car, as if he’s thinking whether he should make a run for it. He decides against it, and I hear my heart pounding in my ears.

“Yes?” Max leans on the roof of his car with one elbow on the door.

“What are you doing here? Did you come to pick up Daisy? Daisy, are you planning on leaving us without notice?”

“No! Of course not.”

“What? No. She’s working for the week,” Max concurs.

“I can’t use her here. I’ve already warned her about my rules, and it seems like she’s determined to play by a different set. Take her with you.” She waves her hand toward me as though I’m yesterday’s rubbish.

“No,” Max tells Libby in a pleading voice. “I came . . . I came to bring her sweets for the kids, but then I realized I left them in my van. I brought the wrong car.” He slaps his forehead, and it’s clear Libby doesn’t believe a word of his story. I suppose I can take solace in the fact that Max is a terrible liar. Maybe that’s why he’s said so little to me all along.

“Daisy, why don’t you go and grab your stuff. I think I’ll handle the cooking from here.”

“But I—”

“You’d better get back to America if you plan to finish your scholarship experience. I’ve already had one of you go AWOL on me, so it’s not a surprise you’d both go. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful you brought me the best Queen Esther I’ve ever seen. I can’t find fault in your best friend.” She sings this as if she hasn’t just kicked me out of her home and forgotten the reason I was able to come to Buenos Aires in the first place. I’m too stunned to feel anything but desperation for her to change her mind.

“Libby, you can’t send me away. I have nowhere to go! My parents are in Buenos Aires and—”

“Someday you’re going to look back on this and see that it was all for the best. Don’t you remember how Saint Paul kicked Saint Mark off of the missionary tour and they doubled their coverage? God will use this. I’m certain of that much.”

“Libby, why? I’ve done everything you asked of me and you know my mother!”

“I can’t let that take my focus off the vision for the mission. We have enough help now, and I do think you’ll agree you and I don’t see eye to eye. I like things done a certain way and you don’t seem to honor that. Let’s part ways as friends, shall we? Friends who will meet again someday, God willing, in heaven.” She holds out her hand to me.

“I’ll get my stuff.” I look at Max. “Will you wait?”

His cheek flinches, but I’m without options. Uncomfortable or not, Max is my ticket back to the safety of my parents, which reminds me of my failure but makes me glad I have a place to run.

“You expect Claire to stay then?” I ask Libby.

“She has her whole life to vacation. Right now she’s doing God’s work. The work he created her to do. She’s a natural.” Libby pulls her straggling blonde hair back into a ponytail, and I marvel at how easily she takes control of people around her.

I shouldn’t feel betrayed by Claire, since Libby is answering for her, but I’m ashamed that I do. “I should talk with Claire before I leave, though. She might need a ride, or not expect to be here alone.”

At this, Max shakes his head impatiently and Libby crosses her arms. I run into the small house to grab my things and see Claire’s upscale bags sitting beside them. I have to give her the choice, I think, as I gather up my stuff under one arm and climb down the ladder.

As I exit the door, I look to my right. Libby and Max are both staring at me, but I can’t leave Claire without at least telling her I’m leaving. There’s no reason for her to be here, and regardless of how Libby feels, Claire needs to make the choice.

I run across the field until I come to the classroom. Claire is in front of the children, dressed as Queen Esther with black kohl around her eyes and blood-red lipstick, in a costume that looks more Egyptian than biblical. She is speaking her lines in Spanish, and I can see she has the entire classroom mesmerized.

I tap the doorjamb and try to wait patiently until her scene is finished, but it’s going on forever. “Pssst!” I try to grab her attention. “Pssst!”

Claire continues her lines as if she’s on the London stage, and if she hears me, she makes no sign of it. Her theory that the show must go on is making me tense. But I wait until her line is finished and call out, “Claire!”

She hikes up her long gown and sways toward me. “What is it?” she hisses.

“Claire, Libby wants me to leave, and Max is outside waiting to take me back to Buenos Aires. Will you come?”

“Right now?” She glances back at the children.

“Max has to be back to town for something. Libby’s made it clear that the time is now.”

Claire brushes back her black bob to reveal sparkling, fake-gold earrings. “Daisy . . . there are four more days to go. I’ve learned all the lines.”

“I don’t have a choice, but you do. I’ll support you either way.”

“I can’t leave yet. I promised Libby and the kids—” Claire motions toward the students. “What will they say if Esther doesn’t finish the story?”

“You don’t mind then?”

“I want to stay. I’m good at this, Daisy, and I love it. I’m happy here.” She’s near tears, as if I’m going to take something away from her.

“You can stay. I don’t mind. I just wanted you to know I’m leaving and to make sure you didn’t feel abandoned. You’ll be the only girl left on the overnight staff.”

“Libby’s here.”

That didn’t matter when I was the only girl, but I suppose for the perfect Queen Esther, Libby will make an exception. “Yeah. I’ll be at your hotel with my parents. You’re sure you’ll be okay without me here?”

“It doesn’t sound like I have a choice,” Claire says.

True. “Not if you want to finish.”

“She’s welcome.” Libby interrupts me. “She hasn’t given me a moment’s trouble, and she’s the best actress we’ve ever had in a role for the kids. They love her, and I’d be crushed if she left now.”

The kids start to tug on Claire’s robe as though she’s Jesus himself. She smiles and bends down until she’s surrounded by little figures glomming onto her. “I couldn’t leave now.”

“Then I have to run. There’s something I have to do.”

Libby’s eyes narrow at my words, but I figure nothing I say would surprise her now. She probably thinks Max and I are off on a romantic tryst. But it doesn’t matter what she thinks. J.C.’s secret is keeping Libby safe, even if she doesn’t know the truth. God knows the truth.

Claire nods. “I’ll call you when the work week here is done.” She bends down to the kids’ level. “It’s important to finish what I started.”

“Yeah.” I try to comprehend how Claire found the experience here to be so fulfilling while it was like serious dental work for me the entire time. “Call when you’re ready.”

Libby smirks at me, as if she’s won over my best friend like we’re in a bad junior high girl fight. I pray to find the right words and inner peace. “Thank you for your hospitality, Libby. I hope you have a wonderful and fruitful week here.”

“Just remember, spiritual pride is a terrible character flaw to battle in this lifetime. I’ll pray for you, Daisy.”

“You do that,” I say with all the sarcasm I can muster. I rush across the field to Max and get into the already running car. He doesn’t even look at me, he just starts backing out.

As we’re leaving, my parents pass us, pulling into the dirt lot in a rented yellow vehicle. “It’s my parents! Max, stop the car.”

He looks genuinely ticked off, but he stops the car. “Why don’t you take your stuff and go with them?”

My mouth dangles open. “Max, you know why. Are you bailing on me?”

He sighs his annoyance. “Just hurry up. That guy is going to miss his flight.”

I run to the passenger window and pant my desperation. I know what they must be thinking about me taking off with Max in the middle of my work week. “Mom, Dad.” I motion for them to roll down the window.

“Daisy, I have the best news!” my mother shouts.

“Mom, not now. Please listen. You have to trust me, but I have to go and I can’t explain why right now. Libby kicked me out of the program, and I’ve got to get back to America and work full-time for the food bank to cover my ministry requirements. But there’s something else I have to do before I go back to the hotel. Max is going to take me on an errand, and I need you to trust that he’s the man for the job. And that I’ll be safe with him.”

“What do you mean she kicked you out?” My father shuts off the engine and steps out of the vehicle. He’s staring at me over the roof of the car. He looks like he’s ready to have Libby for lunch, and he starts to march across the field.

“Dad,” I call after him. “Don’t. You’ll only make things worse, and Claire’s staying. Please. Just trust me, I’ll explain everything later. I promise, Max and I won’t be alone for long, and this has nothing to do with us. We’re not even a couple. Please believe me.”

“What you’re doing isn’t dangerous, is it?”

“No. Not anymore. I just need to go.”

Mom grabs my arm, and I notice she’s wearing a silver ring decorated with her first initial. “Where did you get that?”

“Your father bought it for me in town. Isn’t it beautiful?”

It’s not, really, but my mom and I have never agreed on the definition of beauty. “Nice job, Dad. Tell me all about it at dinner, all right?”

“What time will you be back at the hotel? We’ll head there now,” my dad says.

I look at Max and then back to my parents. “I’ll be there by six at the latest.”

“Take our phone so we can reach you and we don’t have to worry. You can call the hotel and leave us a message if you’re delayed for any reason.”

I nod and take the proffered cell phone. “Thanks Mom, Dad. Thanks for trusting me.” I clutch the phone in my hand and walk toward Max. If I wanted closure, I sure did a good job of opening up yet another can of worms with J.C. And would Max remotely care about me if J.C. weren’t in the picture?

I stare at him, trying to decipher his thoughts as I get into the car. His deep, dark eyes reveal nothing.